


A Single Session

by monarchyofone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pacifyverse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Exchange, Praise, Restraints, Teasing, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25595005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monarchyofone/pseuds/monarchyofone
Summary: A lot of things had changed for Narcissa in the seventy-two hours after the Final Battle. She had not expected this encounter with Bill and Fleur Weasley to be one of them.[Mostly PWP]
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	A Single Session

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pacify Part 5: Safety](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24507556) by [Chickenpets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chickenpets/pseuds/Chickenpets). 



> Much love to the Pacify Discord, and Chelonie, who inspired this oneshot AU of Pacify (Part 5). And thanks to Chickenpets, for Pacify.
> 
> Read Pacify, friends.
> 
> (You can read this without reading Pacify if you like, but, I mean, if you like this, you'll love Pacify even more. Just do it)

Draco was eyeing the second Weasley child as if one good round in the bedroom was all it would take to rebuild the entirety of Hogwarts.

Narcissa was a realist. Surely rebuilding Hogwarts would require more than a single session. (Though, she supposed, Severus and Mr Potter might be able to manage just that if they’d decided to. From her point of view, however, it seemed as though they had more pressing matters to handle at the moment).

She stood in the Entrance Hall, watching her son greet a collection of Weasleys with an awkward stretch of his hand, which was immediately knocked aside by the Dragon Tamer, who swept her little Dragon up into an all-engulfing hug.

“Makes you a little sick to look at, don’t you think?”

She turned to the eldest Weasley, who was, on this occasion, accompanied by a stunning blonde woman. “I am happy that my son is happy,” said Narcissa.

“Well, sure,” said Bill, “but I’d much prefer my brother to be happy _outside_ of my line of sight, if you know what I mean.” 

The woman standing with Bill placed her hand on his arm. “Pardon my ‘usband,” she said in a soft French accent. “‘e forgets ‘imself every now and ’zen.” She extended her hand to Narcissa. “I am Fleur.”

“Narcissa. Enchantée.” She shook Fleur’s hand lightly, feeling her grip readjust in surprise as she stepped forward, placing a delicate kiss on each of Fleur’s cheeks.

“Ah! ‘ow nice it is to greet someone ’ze way of ’ze French!” Fleur said, clasping Narcissa’s hand tightly between both of her own. “‘ow is it ’zat you know of such things?”

“My—” Narcissa paused, swallowing the forthcoming word husband in her throat. “My son and I have spent many lovely summers in Marseille.”

Fleur continued to grip Narcissa’s hand, clutching it close to her body. “I am from Brignole,” she said brightly. “ _Mon grand-père a eu un petit vignoble toute ma vie; ses vins blancs était_ ”—here, she released Narcissa’s hand in order to bring one of her own up to her lips, kissing her fingers—“ _merveilleux_.”

Something about Fleur’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Narcissa could feel her own energy lifting to match that of this small French woman in front of her. “ _Ah, il me faudra le goûter une fois, bien sûr_.”

Fleur smiled brilliantly, and responded with an assurance that she would have to find Narcissa a bottle of white wine from her grandfather’s vineyard to taste—or, perhaps, that Narcissa would simply have to join them for dinner one night. Out of the corner of her vision, Narcissa caught a glimpse of Bill, his eyes as round as saucers, listening to his wife’s rapid French as she shared her experience of growing up not far from a magical vineyard. 

In the same way that Fleur’s energy was invigorating, so too did Bill’s look ignite something in her.

“Ah, bon,” Fleur said, looking back at her husband. “I will speak English again, yes? Bill, he doesn’t understand French, you see.”

A reckless, intense thought crossed Narcissa’s brain, and she paused a moment to actively engage with it.

She’d never had the space to consider such stray thoughts before. She didn’t resent her upbringing in the slightest—she was, in fact, quite proud of the woman she had become, and all of the steps she had taken to put herself where she now was—but it hadn’t afforded her the freedom to consider her own whims as anything more than temporary distractions from her goals. And she’d never bothered to be bothered by that.

But now—her poor excuse of a husband was gone. Her son was as good as ready to leave the nest; by the look of things, she’d be surprised if he hadn’t found his way into Charlie’s bed by nightfall. There were certainly arrangements to be made regarding their recent arrest, the likely seizure of the majority of their assets, and the location of her future residence—but, for perhaps the first time in her life, Narcissa was prepared to put her own pleasure above any perceived urgencies.

She brought her head close to Fleur’s once again. “Il vous regarde très…attentivement. Soigneusement.” _He watches you very attentively. With care._

Fleur met Narcissa’s gaze, a mischievous sparkle overtaking her dark blue eyes. “Il aime m’écouter.” She threw a look over her shoulder. “Il…le réponde.” _He likes to listen to me. He…responds to it._

Narcissa took a slow, deep breath. “Et vous? Vous le repondez aussi?” _And you? Do you respond to it as well?_

Fleur raised one thin eyebrow. “Vous pourriez me persuader.” _You might be able to persuade me._

“Volontiers.” _Oh yes. Gladly. With pleasure._ Narcissa let the word roll off her tongue luxuriously, savouring each syllable, then raised her voice slightly. “Mr Weasley, your wife has expressed an interest in visiting a part of the castle that is, perhaps, a bit less war-ravaged. Is there a place you would recommend, or shall I take her to the dungeons?”

Fleur lifted a hand to her lips to cover her small gasp.

“You’ll wanna be careful in the dungeons,” Ronald chimed in, dragging his attention away from the conversation about Quidditch he’d been carrying on with Draco and Charlie, who were standing as close as humanly possible to each other without daring to do the thing they both clearly wanted, which was to touch each other.

(Though, to be fair, Narcissa was in many ways doing the same thing with the woman in front of her, but in her case, this was a deliberate decision, and would be rectified quite shortly.)

“It may not be war-ravaged,” Ron continued, “but Harry and Severus are still down there after who knows how long, and I, for one, am not interested in knowing what _their_ kind of ravaged looks like.”

“Yes, but I ‘ave not been to the dungeons before, I do not ’zink,” said Fleur, looking between Narcissa and Bill. “Are ’zere many nice ’zings to see in ’ze dungeons?”

“I’m quite partial to them, myself,” said Narcissa. “Perhaps you simply need to be escorted by the right person.”

Fleur wrapped her hand around Bill’s arm. “We will go ’zere, ’zen. I would like to see ’zis.”

Bill’s eyes flicked up to look at Narcissa, who merely summoned the same impassive demeanour she had used when she looked the Dark Lord in the eye and killed her husband, and when Harry Potter had broken her out of the holding cell at the Ministry by melting through metal with his bare hands and acting as though walls didn’t exist. Unfazed, unimpressed, unbothered. 

“Will you come with us, William?”

Bill paused for a second, two—calculating, analysing, parsing. Then, with a slow nod of his head, he lifted his untethered hand. “Please, Mrs Malfoy, lead the way.”

Narcissa turned on her heel and began walking toward the staircase to descend into the dungeons. “No need for formalities, not after all we’ve been through,” she said, pulling open the door and gesturing for the couple to enter the staircase in front of her. “It’s Narcissa, please.”

“Well then,” Bill said, a hand trailing down Fleur’s back as she brushed ahead of him. “Call me Bill. Everyone does.”

The door closed behind them, and the wall sconces flared to life, lighting their way. “Ooh, it is quite dark, no?” Fleur reached up, caressing the stones lightly as she went. “It feels very different from ’ze rest of ’ze castle.”

“Yes, for some reason, they’ve decided to keep the Slytherins away from the rest of the castle,” Narcissa said lightly, with only a hint of derision. “I do find that it grows on you, however.” 

They reached the bottom of the stairs, continuing down a long stretch of corridor until Fleur stopped in front of a wall carving in one of the inlets. She pulled one of Bill’s arms around her, leaning against his chest as she traced her finger along the smooth patterns. “Your dungeons,” she said to Narcissa, ‘’zey have so much…character.”

“Your words are very kind,” Narcissa responded. “Not all who come this way have the same opinion.”

Fleur gave Narcissa a soft smile. “I ’zink I would have been happy to be a Slytherin,” she said. “Your dungeons are lovely. And so are your people.”

Narcissa stretched out her hand, brushing a thumb against Fleur’s cheek. “As are you, my darling.”

Bill exhaled hard, tightening his arm around his wife’s waist. “Yes, of course,” he said into Fleur’s hair. “My little conspiring Slytherin. You know I brought you here to help with rebuilding, correct?”

Fleur turned to look up at her husband. “‘’zis does help, mon chéri. ’zis is just as important as clearing ’ze dust and putting ’ze bricks back in ’ze walls. ’zis is for _l’ésprit_.”

He regarded her for a long moment, his gaze softening with each passing second. Then, he lifted her chin, and she stretched up on her toes, and he crushed her against his body as he kissed her.

“I can assume, then,” said Narcissa, after a bit, “that you have done this often.”

Fleur placed a steady hand on Bill’s shoulder, pivoting on her toes like a ballerina. “Not very often, no. But we ‘ave, by occasion, invited someone to join us.”

Narcissa stepped close to Fleur, sliding her fingers through the woman’s long blonde hair, brushing against the wall of her husband’s broad chest just behind her head. “Tell me what you like, my darling.”

Fleur laid a delicate hand on Narcissa’s sleeve, leaning into her touch. “It is not often ’zat I am not in charge,” she said.

Her words were intoxicating. Narcissa could feel the layers of unspoken desire in her lungs as she inhaled. “And your husband?”

“I am still in charge of ‘im,” Fleur stated. “‘e does nothing unless I say so.”

“I will leave him to you, then,” said Narcissa, flipping her palm to press into Bill’s shoulder before withdrawing her hand, pleased to feel his heartbeat jumping through his clothes. “He shall be your responsibility, and I expect you to keep him in line.”

Fleur inclined her head once. “‘e will behave.” She shifted on her feet. “We will get started, yes?”

Narcissa swept her hair over one shoulder, pulling herself into her full height. “I would be delighted.” She stepped into the centre of the hallway, lifting a hand to give directions. “At the end of the corridor, turn right. Between two paintings on your left, there will be a bare stretch of wall. Behind that, you should find everything you need to make yourself comfortable.” She raised her chin slightly. “Or uncomfortable, if you prefer.”

Fleur stretched up on her toes, pressing her lips to Narcissa’s cheek. “Do not be long.”

Narcissa grabbed Fleur’s wrist as she moved away, pulling her back to look into her eyes. “Do not presume you can tell me what to do, little one,” Narcissa said darkly, watching Fleur’s pupils expand delightfully. “I will come when I am ready.”

Fleur blinked once, not daring to move until Narcissa loosened her grip. Once released, she took a deep breath, then a step backwards, eyes fixed on Narcissa, before turning to glide down the corridor, following her directions to the Slytherin common room.

Narcissa addressed Bill, who did not follow his wife. “Have I forgotten something?”

Bill’s eyes lingered on Fleur’s footsteps for another moment, watching her disappear around the corner, before fixing Narcissa with another analysing look. “What are your intentions in this?”

“Pardon?”

“My wife knows what she wants, and she gets it. I am happy to make her happy.” He paused, a twinge in his cheek causing his scarred skin to ripple. “What I want to understand is where you stand in this. What you want from this.”

Narcissa set her gaze beyond Bill’s shoulder. “I suppose my intentions are quite similar to yours. Your wife is impossible to deny, and at a time like this, I believe pleasure is worth pursuing.”

Bill hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. “Fleur believes she likes to give up control,” he said eventually. “What she really means is that she likes having her choices _limited_. She doesn’t react well to being backed into a corner, but she will gladly be pushed against a wall if she gets to choose whether she’s being held off the ground or sinking to her knees.”

He turned to leave, and Narcissa let him get halfway down the corridor before asking after him. “And you?”

He stopped, lifting his head and looking over his shoulder. “You’ll have to ask her that.”

Alone in the corridor, Narcissa took a moment to gather her thoughts. She’d never been in such a situation before—certainly not with so much power being allotted to her, where she didn’t have to think about the future repercussions of her current actions. This, they all knew, was simply a momentary withdrawal from the aftermath of a brutal war. With so much work still to be done, it would be nice to narrow her focus for a moment.

When she considered enough time to have passed for Fleur and Bill to prepare themselves, Narcissa strode down the hallway and opened the wall to the common room.

Bill stood in front of a chair near the centre of the room, his clothes neatly folded and placed on a side table. Fleur circled him, looking him up and down as if preparing him for inspection. When Narcissa closed the door behind her, they both looked her way.

“Will you tell ’ze nice lady what word you will say if you want me to stop?”

“G-Gringotts.”

Fleur patted his cheek. “Very good.” She ran a hand down his chest, around his back, over his arse, then pulled back, giving him a solid swat on each arse cheek. He huffed and shifted. Narcissa watched his cock bob.

“Very good indeed,” Narcissa said, moving towards the couple. She laid her robe on the back of a couch as she passed it, revealing a delicate black lace bodice and simple black underwear. Had she anticipated an encounter such as this one, she might have added some thigh-high stockings and suspender belts, but overall, she was pleased with her appearance. She reached for Fleur, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. “You have trained him well, I see. Does he have any tricks to show me?”

Fleur’s eyes widened as she took in Narcissa’s presence, her chest heaving. “Bien sûr,” she breathed, then turned to the man next to her. “Mon chéri, show Narcissa your wrists, please.”

Bill obediently stretched out his arms, placing his wrists together. Fleur removed the ribbon tied around her neck, wrapping it instead around Bill’s wrists, manoeuvring his fingers into fists.

“You pay such careful attention,” Narcissa said reverently, watching each precise flick of Fleur’s fingers.

Fleur clicked her tongue. “It would not do to break your favourite toy, true?” She pulled on Bill’s arms, forcing him to lean forward, directing his forearms to rest on the seat of the chair. She slapped at his thighs to part his legs further.

“He spreads quite nicely,” Narcissa responded. “Will you tease him? Or will he take some heat?”

“I believe,” Fleur said, caressing his skin, “’zat ‘e wishes to be spanked more ’zan ‘e wishes to be teased. ’Zerefore, it is only right that ‘e will be teased first.” Bill squirmed, and Fleur pinched at the space where his right arse cheek met his upper thigh.

“And you,” Narcissa said, “will you undress for me? Or is he so in need of attention that you must first address his concerns?”

“Oh, ‘e is much too needy,” said Fleur at once. “‘e must first remember who I am.”

And with that, she trailed one finger over one buttock, then the other, watching the muscles twitch and jump in her wake. She circled her finger around the slight indent of the small of his back, and then began an agonisingly slow descent down his arse crack, drawing patterns over his hole, using her thumb to play with his balls, pressing into his perineum. His cock was long and hard, and she touched it with just one finger, up and down his length slowly, until his legs began to shake. He moaned, and she pulled away.

“Good boys will get ’zeir treats later,” she said. “Up, now.” She guided him to stand up, and then pushed him into the chair, pulling his bound wrists to rest on his thighs. “Don’t touch.”

Fleur turned her back to him, and Narcissa stepped forward: 

“Are you mine, now?” 

Fleur tipped her chin back, breathing heavily, her eyes large and begging, a small whimper escaping her throat. “You may undress yourself,” Narcissa said. “Or I will do it for you, if you prefer.”

“Touch me.” Fleur’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

 _Gladly_. Narcissa reached out, brushing Fleur’s hair away from her face, gathering it in one hand, running her fingers down the length of it, feeling its silk against her palm. Fleur’s eyes fluttered shut.

She ran an appreciative hand down the woman’s arm, slipping around her back, pulling her close. Hot, heavy breath fanned across her collarbone, and Narcissa let the experience overtake her actions for one inhale, then another, each exhale stronger and sharper than the last, basking in the effects of her touch.

Her hand found warm skin at the end of Fleur’s blouse, and she began slowly working the fabric up her body and over her head. “Beautiful,” said Narcissa, taking in the woman’s soft curves, and then flicked open the button of her jeans. She led Fleur backwards to the couch she had passed on her way in, sitting down on a cushion and standing the woman in front of her.

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Fleur’s stomach before easing her out of her jeans. As Fleur removed her ankles from the pool of fabric, Narcissa sat back on the couch, and pulled on Fleur’s wrist, guiding her to sit over her. “You are magnificent,” she whispered, helping to arrange Fleur’s knees on either side of her legs. She pulled the woman against her, relishing in the feel of soft skin underneath her hands, and pressed her nose against Fleur’s collarbone.

Fleur squirmed against her, throwing her head back, her long hair teasing at Narcissa’s fingers. She rocked back and forth against the air, her legs tightening around Narcissa’s thighs, and she moaned as Narcissa opened her mouth against the skin of her neck.

“Bite, bite,” chanted Fleur, and Narcissa gave no resistance in obliging. She sucked the skin into her mouth as Fleur thrust against her, her moans only getting louder as Narcissa alternated between her teeth and her tongue against Fleur’s neck. Her fingers slipped under the band of her bra, working the clasp open, then circling around to the front, cupping her hands around the entirety of each of Fleur’s breasts, her thumbs teasing the nipples.

Narcissa pressed small kisses all up Fleur’s neck, nibbling at her jawline, encouraged not only by the sounds coming from Fleur, but the full-on panting erupting from Bill’s chair. She assisted in depositing Fleur’s bra on the floor, then pulled away, looking over at the exiled man.

“I believe your husband could use some more of that attention,” she said to the writhing woman on top of her. “Shall I aid in alleviating a bit of his tension, or shall we tease him even further?”

“If it’s too difficult to sit still in a chair,” said Fleur, looking over at her husband, “I can put ‘im over my knee instead.”

Narcissa grabbed Fleur by the chin, forcing her to meet her eyes. “That was not a choice,” Narcissa said sharply, a thrill passing through her as Fleur gasped and stilled. “I can go over there, or we will both remain here. Those are your choices.”

Fleur needed a second to catch her breath before she could respond. “I ’zink I would like to see you go to ‘im,” she said eventually. 

“Very well, my darling,” Narcissa said, sliding Fleur to the side, settling her into the corner of the couch. She leaned down, readjusting Fleur’s hair again, and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Don’t touch.”

Bill grew very still as he watched Narcissa approach, the apprehension evident on his face. She surveyed his body with her eyes—fingers still curled into fists, slightly red at the wrists from where he’d struggled just a bit too hard against the ribbon. A healthy flush on his cheeks and chest, clashing brilliantly against the fiery orange-red of his hair. Cock, jutting away from his body, even darker red than the flush across his chest. Narcissa lightly trailed her fingers across his shoulders and around his neck, circling his chair once.

“He may not be able to sit still,” she addressed to his wife, “but at least he knows not to get up. You have trained him well.”

“‘e says ‘e doesn’t like ’ze waiting, but ’zat is all lies,” Fleur responded. “‘e likes the struggle.”

“Is that so.” Narcissa looked over the man, enjoying the fight in his eyes, though his mouth remained shut. “I’m going to stroke his cock now. Should I tie his wrists to the chair, keep him tied as he is, or set him free?” She smirked at the twitch in his cock, the pathetic thrust against the air.

Fleur lifted herself onto her knees, readjusting herself to take in the view. “Untie ‘is wrists,” she declared. “‘e will keep ’zem on ’ze top of ‘is ‘ead.” Her accent had gotten thicker with all the excitement, and she spoke very quickly, as if she couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

Narcissa removed the ribbon, carefully stretching out each of Bill’s wrists and arms in turn before guiding his hands to the top of his head. Then she dangled one end of the ribbon over his cock, watching him fight his instincts to both lean into and shirk away from the infuriating tease.

She balled the ribbon up in her left hand, and reached down with her right, her fingers circling his large cock and simply holding still, feeling the heat and the sweat and the pulse against her palm, letting him tense and then relax as he adjusted to such a strong touch. He exhaled heavily, and she removed her hand.

He whined. His knuckles turned white as he tightened his hold on his hair.

Narcissa turned back to Fleur, holding the ribbon out in her hand as she moved to stand behind the couch, once again running her fingers through Fleur’s hair. She locked eyes with the man she had left on the chair as she lifted Fleur’s hair up and tied it into a high ponytail with the ribbon. “He moans so prettily,” she said to Fleur, letting her hands run down Fleur’s front, feeling her nipples pebble underneath her fingers. Fleur pressed against her, rubbing against Narcissa’s cheek with her head like a cat.

“I want you to go touch your husband’s cock now,” Narcissa said in Fleur’s ear. “But he’s not allowed to come yet. You may either use your hand, or your mouth—you may not use both. Do you understand me?”

Fleur shuddered out a breath, nodding. She floated over to Bill as though her feet had no need to touch the ground, kneeling in front of him. “‘e is very close,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “We’ve ‘ardly touched ‘im.”

“He, rightfully so, has an appreciation for beautiful things,” Narcissa said, standing to the side, finding herself a bit breathless as she absorbed the scene in front of her. “Surely, you are the proof of that.” She swept her hair over her shoulder, only a bit surprised to find herself beginning to sweat. “Now, go on. He’s hardly been touched, after all.”

Fleur looked up at Narcissa from her position on the floor, and then shuffled forward on her knees. With slow, deliberate movements, she placed one hand, and then the other, behind her back, holding on to one wrist with the other hand. She leaned forward, brushing Bill’s cock with her nose, relishing in his increasingly desperate whimpers, before opening her mouth, lavishing small licks against his skin as she made her way from his balls up to the tip.

Bill’s chest heaved, his breathing heavy and hard, his eyes squeezed shut and his fingers yanking at his hair as he tried to keep himself under control. Fleur’s lips closed around the tip of his cock, and he yelped, giving an odd half-thrust of his hips as he fought to keep still, knowing his orgasm would be denied, no matter how deeply he desired _more_.

Fleur pulled away, a thin strand of saliva still connecting her to his cock as she pursed her lips and placed a simple kiss on the tip. The movement surprised him, and his eyes shot open, looking down at her as she looked up at him, and Narcissa could feel the tightening of his balls from her location several feet away. He moaned, every possible muscle in his body tense as he tried, and failed, to hold himself together. Fleur slipped his cock back into her mouth as he came, time seeming to lengthen as Bill tipped his head back, his eyes shut, his mouth open, one long groan escaping from his throat.

“Well, isn’t that disappointing,” Narcissa said lowly as Fleur eased herself off of her husband’s cock and sat back on the floor, relieving the pressure on her ankles and knees. Fleur’s head shot up, locking eyes with Narcissa, sudden panic in her eyes. “I suppose he’s just a one-trick pony, then.”

Fleur flushed with embarrassment. “Pardon me, I—”

Narcissa held up her hand, cutting Fleur off, then crooked one finger at her, beckoning her off the floor. She scrambled to obey, standing in front of Narcissa with wide eyes and a contrite look on her face. Narcissa tipped her chin up with one finger, inclining her own head down to the point just before their lips touched. 

“I don’t appreciate being disobeyed,” Narcissa said, her lips brushing Fleur’s as she spoke. Fleur swallowed hard, her breathing shallow. “I believe I assigned you responsibility over him. How will you make it up to me?”

Fleur made a small, desperate noise in the back of her throat.

Narcissa felt a small smile play at the corner of her lips, and slid a hand behind Fleur’s neck. “Would you sacrifice an orgasm for me?”

The look in Fleur’s eyes said that she would give Narcissa everything she asked for, as long as she didn’t faint first.

Narcissa gave in, pressing her lips fully to Fleur’s, kissing her deeply. Fleur gave herself wholly over to the kiss, and Narcissa wrapped steady arms around her to hold her up. When she pulled away, Fleur tipped forward, leaning her head against Narcissa’s breasts.

“Don’t pass out on me yet, my darling,” Narcissa said, “there’s more to be done. One more decision for you: would you like to sit on your husband’s cock? Or would you like to rub yourself off on my leg?”

Fleur moaned piteously, shaking her head slightly. “I—”

Narcissa prised the woman away from her body, peering into her eyes. “Perhaps your husband has an opinion?”

Both women looked over at the man still sitting in his chair, hands pressed into his knees, still quite flushed and breathless. “I’m gonna need a bit more time than that, my love,” he said in response to Fleur’s unasked question.

Narcissa nodded, and guided Fleur back over to the couch, sitting down and pulling her once again on top of her. She gestured for Bill to join them, silently directing him to stand behind the couch, putting the couple face-to-face. His torso supported the back of Narcissa’s head, as solid as a brick wall, and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment before she fixed herself on her task at hand.

“Alright, come on, my darling,” she said to Fleur, helping her adjust herself so both of her legs were straddling just one of Narcissa’s thighs. She pressed up against Fleur, listening to her gasp, a bit of energy starting to inject back into her as she re-found her thrusting rhythm from earlier—only now, with something to thrust against. Her breathy moans filled the room, and she clutched onto Narcissa’s shoulders, tossing her head back. Narcissa dipped her head, latching onto the other side of Fleur’s neck, happily giving her a matching mark. There were kissing sounds above her as Bill leaned down to meet his wife.

Fleur thrust quicker, breaking away from Bill, her breath coming out in little pants and moans, and Narcissa placed her hands on Fleur’s waist, forcing her to pause. “Do you know what it means to give me your orgasm?” she asked, meeting the woman’s eyes. “It means you will get yourself as close as you possibly can before coming, and then you will stop. Understood?”

Fleur dropped her head down to Narcissa’s shoulder, moaning loudly. Narcissa wrapped Fleur’s ponytail around her hand, pulling just hard enough to draw Fleur off of her shoulder. “ _Entendu_?”

“Oui,” Fleur gasped out. “Oui.”

“Very well,” said Narcissa. “Please continue.”

Fleur built up her rhythm once again, struggling to hold herself up, needing both Narcissa and Bill to support her as she took her pleasure from Narcissa’s skin. With each thrust forward, Fleur pushed her knee into Narcissa’s crotch, building up a fire of her own. Narcissa trailed kisses down Fleur’s skin, clutching at her back, greeting each press of Fleur’s chest against hers with a sharp exhale, holding herself back, watching Fleur get closer and closer, until—

“Okay, okay, okay,” babbled Fleur, stilling, tensing her legs, hovering over Narcissa’s thigh as though all she would need is just one more brush of skin to set her off. She pressed her forehead into Narcissa’s neck. “Okay, I’m—”

Narcissa gripped her waist tightly. “That’s good,” she said, “very good. I like to see that kind of obedience, that devotion. You’ve done very well. That’s so good” Fleur trembled in her arms, breathing heavily, her skin sticking to Narcissa’s with a delightfully satisfying layer of sweat. “You’re so good for me.” 

She shifted the woman from one shoulder to the other, using her dominant hand to stroke down her head and back. “Obedient ones get rewarded. Would you like a reward, my darling?” Without waiting for an answer, Narcissa pressed back up into Fleur, her hand moving from the woman’s back to aid her along. “Come for me, my darling.”

Fleur arched against Narcissa’s body, her hips rocking back and forth, chasing the orgasm she was so prepared to give up, merely because Narcissa had asked. She gasped against Narcissa’s skin, cresting quickly from all the stimulation. Then she collapsed, boneless, and Narcissa wrapped her arms tightly around the smaller woman. “So beautiful,” she spoke into blonde hair, “so precious. So lovely. Well done, my darling.”

Bill walked over to his stack of clothes, acquiring his wand and transfiguring his shirt into a blanket to wrap around his still-shaking wife. He pulled on his trousers, then moved to sit down beside them.

“I hope that was good for you as well,” Narcissa said to Bill. “I’m afraid we may have gotten a bit carried away there at the end.”

Bill sighed deeply, long and slow. “If I know anything about my wife, I’m expecting she’ll ask after you again before long. And as long as she’s happy—” he stretched out a hand to stroke her cheek as she rested against Narcissa’s skin “—I’m one-hundred percent sold.”

Fleur shifted a bit under the blanket, trying to find her way off of Narcissa’s legs so she could stretch out. Bill stood, lifting her up with ease, and Narcissa vacated the couch to give Fleur the full length of it. He placed a delicate kiss on her forehead, carefully arranging the blanket over her.

Narcissa stepped away from the couch, and Fleur shot out a hand in an attempt to stop her. “But—you?”

Narcissa bent down to smooth a bit of damp hair off of her face. “You have given me absolutely everything I have asked for,” she told Fleur, caressing her cheek. “I have no need of more.”

She circled around the couch, retrieving her robes (a bit wrinkled, perhaps she could have found a better place to put them) from the back of the couch, and redressed. Just as she’d finished, the door to the common room opened.

“—and once I—” The conversation froze along with its participants at the door, and Bill and Narcissa turned to look at the incoming couple.

Draco turned deathly pale, and then bright red, and high-tailed it back out of the common room, the door slamming shut as he went.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Blondes indeed,” he said, taking in Bill’s unclothed chest, his wife dozing on the couch, and—she assumed—Narcissa’s rather unkempt appearance.

Instead of responding to his brother, Bill jutted his hand out toward Narcissa. “In all honesty, I do hope we see you again.”

Narcissa reciprocated the handshake— “Your wife does owe me a bottle of wine, after all” —and swept out of the room.

Just before the door closed, she heard Bill’s advice to Charlie: “You should go after him, you know. If he’s anything like—”


End file.
